


Like the Eventual Descent into Madness

by umechaw



Category: Naruto
Genre: Age Difference, Drunk Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Angst, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Masturbation, POV Kakashi Hatake chapters, POV Sakura Haruno chapters, References to Depression, Sakura has a potty mouth, Sakura knows what she wants, Smut, Strong Haruno Sakura, kakasaku - Freeform, typical kakashi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 09:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umechaw/pseuds/umechaw
Summary: Kakashi made my dad cry, and after that I’ve kind of been in love with him.





	Like the Eventual Descent into Madness

_ Like the Eventual Descent into Madness, _

It was a gradual thing.

**chapter one**

**the grey area**

* * *

 

Kakashi made my dad cry, and after that I’ve kind of been in love with him.

I mean, it feels like love. Fuck, I don’t know, my experience with it is a little warped. When you're a stupid kid it's more black and white. You love your family, and then you  _ love _ . What I thought was  _ “love _ love” ended up being this all-consuming infatuation that had seemed harmless at the time, but I lie awake at night and I replay the unhealthy, feud-driven obsession over and over in my head and I realise that only got me burned, like  _ really _ fucking bad.

But it taught me that  _ love _ love ended up being more than boys with pretty hair. Love is like a jigsaw piece you fit into people, or people fit into you. I don’t know. All I know is that I  _ love  _ my teammates, my friends, my parents, and I’ve always had an obsessive compulsion of categorizing people.

And until that moment Kakashi had been my sensei. An enigma of a man, a patch of skin and a right eye. He was also that gentle reminder that someone as high-strung as me doesn’t really tell themselves regularly.  _ Everything is going to be okay _ . It was yet to be okay, but I still believed him.

But then I  _ loved _ him. Like learning how to punch a tree in half and hitting it wrong and having to run from being squashed to death. Like starting something inevitable.

I feel like strong people are always supposed to leave the world kicking and screaming, the way babies come into it. But I was wrong. My mother died in slow motion. I’d idolized her, put all my hopes and dreams into her. I watched her be powerful, and then retired, and then bedridden. And then a human being gasping for their last breath. Too tired to scream.

After she was gone my dad couldn’t handle the way she had filled the family house with herself, and left us to stew in it. She had liked art, and covered every inch of wall space with beautiful things she’d found and bought all around the world. She maintained so many plants, to keep herself busy after she was trapped in her home so often. She liked exotic smells and photos of me, too many in my opinion, and shoes, so many shoes, some with so many holes and broken soles, because she couldn’t bare to throw them out.

It was a blessing and a curse having the time to say goodbye, to accept the inevitable, to tell her everyday that I  _ loved her so fucking much _ .

The grief was all wrong on me. Dry-eyed and swelling up inside like a rot.

And after days and days of breathing in a bitter air and seeing the shadow of her around every corner, my father suddenly demanded I give up my dreams as a kunoichi, and it was with a dry-eyed rage that I promised vehemently that I never, ever would.

But my mother had been his entire  _ world _ . I had his hair and eyes, but I think I looked more like her, carried myself more like her, and I was a malicious reminder.

She’d always been soft, only with him. She would have explained it, explained it until it reached his heart and they were unanimous.

What did I do? I went in with my fucking hackles raised. I felt  _ insulted. _ I felt like he was insulting  _ her _ . How could I do such a thing? It hadn’t been her job that had killed her. It had been bad luck, it had been fucking  _ life _ . Maybe it would have been better if she’d died as a shinobi and not a fragile, broken thing, trapped in her own home and her own head and left to waste away.

So I said to him, 'I would rather die like she did than give up being a kunoichi. You're an idiot if you think she didn't feel the same way.’

My father had never hit me before. My father has a silver tongue, you see. My father was too smart for violence, I'd always thought. That was always for me and mom.

But he'd walked around with clenched fists for days now, and I could see the anger, more than any sorrow, that had swept him up. So he backhanded me.

Training dictated I have him on the floor subdued in seconds. My anger dictated I create the perfect fist-shaped hole through his head. 

Instead I felt like I was four in a fucked up kind of way. I had always been a good kid. Barely even got scolded. They’d never hit me before.

He looked horrified with himself. Before he could trip over his own tongue and tears in apology, I was out that door for fear of what I’d do, and what I wouldn’t.

It was an awful moment to realise that I had a dozen or so people I could have run to, but I wanted none of it. Because I didn’t have my team. Naruto was following the path of that old fuddy sannin. Sasuke… it hurt to think about him. But he was gone, too. And Kakashi, a leaf in the wind, like always. I didn’t have my team to run to.

I had Ino. And I love Ino, and I'm sure somewhere in her black heart she loves me, but she was the wrong person for comfort. She was the last person I wanted to see, because she couldn’t put herself in anyone else’s place. She would look at my face and question why I even let him do it, let alone get away with it.

It angered me that I did.

My face was stinging, the inside of my mouth had clipped a tooth and was bleeding, and I found an empty training ground and demolished everything in my path. My mother was good at violence, the cold and practiced and sleek kind, but she wasn’t this needlessly angry? I’m sure she didn’t have that voice inside her head she had to hide away, screaming into the void. Maybe I'd always had this in me because of my dad? Hiding under the surface, embarrassed by it.

Maybe I would grow up to be a parent that hit their kid when I got mad.

I turned rubble into granules. Granules into dust particles. And then I just… sat down. I might have fallen asleep. It was a long day under the blistering sun and all of a sudden it was setting.

I hated that it was Kakashi who came in. I always tried so hard to look strong in front of him because, well, I'd always had a lot of competition. I’d always had to fight for his gaze and approval. I'd always felt that push, like I was in the way. Like I was a companion piece to two great ninja in the making. Just there to fill the official numbers.

He was good at reminding me that there were more important things to get upset over, and as I grew up, I was always thankful for that. For a moment I was scared he was going to reprimand me for the mess I'd made. Why did I think he would be heartless?

Kakashi said nothing, and stood there for a moment, cautious. Rightfully so. I looked around at the destroyed equipment and the various craters, wondering how much of this damage I’d have to pay for.

‘Hey Sakura.’

I saw softness in that one eye. Pity stung, burned me from the inside, but it was a little different coming from him. It was more of a mutual distaste for great loss, something he knew all too well. He came to me, and crouched low. He put a strong hand on my shoulder and I felt his thumb stroke calm patterns. I didn’t know why it shocked me so much for my sensei to show me comfort, albeit so... uncomfortably.

But it came from him, so it calmed me. Made me feel like I could handle it.

‘Have you been fighting somebody?’

I froze, touched my face. Why hadn’t I just healed it? Kakashi looked around at first, maybe expecting to see a decimated body somewhere amongst the destruction, but found nobody but sad, lonely me.

‘No. It was an accident.’

Kakashi made me meet his eyes. ‘You know I know you’re lying.’

‘It was an accident. Just from debris.’ Not exactly sure why I was trying to cover for my father when he deserved it.

But Kakashi knew, though. He had a way of seeing right through people, reading every move, even without his Sharingan. I hid it from him because, again, I had this backwards opinion of what he would think of me for letting it happen, and running away.

‘You feel like you have to deal with it yourself, but you don’t.’ He looked very serious.

I was so embarrassed. Another scolding. I did  _ not _ want to be there. I tried to stand up and dust myself off. ‘I don’t want to talk about this.’

He held tightly for a moment to keep me down, before he thought better of it. Took his hands off me. But it worked, had jarred me, and I stared into his apologetic eye.

'I understand the need to pretend it didn't happen. It helps you feel like you have control. But take it from me, it doesn't last long.’ And he implored me one more time, rather directly. ‘Tell me who hit you.’

‘It was my dad,’ I said. I think I sounded numb, but my ears were ringing, so I don’t remember. All I remember is the panic of it being real.

I’d had so much adrenaline pumping through me that suddenly, I was drained. I wanted to sleep.

‘I don’t blame him.’ I mumbled. ‘My mother died.’ I explained like an idiot, like he hadn't already heard. Like he hadn’t been told to come and collect me and make sure nobody was dead.

‘Do you think that is any excuse to hurt you?’ Kakashi countered. I could tell he was furious from the way he kept his voice all monotone, and he looked through me, trying not to convey too much.

I remembered then how horrified and instantly complacent my father had been as soon as he’d done it, and I shook my head. ‘It’s fine. He’s fine.’

It’s a bit of a blur, the back and forth. In truth the last thing I wanted to do was be alone in my own tiny apartment, knowing I was motherless. But I had  _ no desire at all _ to go back and face him without a game plan. I'd have to go back eventually. I'd been staying at my parents house more than my own after my mother became ill, and half of my wardrobe was there. I could have slept on the dirt right then and there, home to bugs and worms and all the buzzing of the night to keep me company.

‘Can I walk you home?’

‘I don’t want to be in either of my homes right now. Just leave me here.’

But that wouldn’t do. And suddenly Kakashi was offering me his couch.

He took me down the quiet streets to avoid people.

‘Do you think Sensei will be mad about all the damage to the training ground?’ I asked dumbly, trying to fill the silence.

‘What damage?’ he asked, with a subtle wink.

It was funny to think that only hours ago I had completely ruled Kakashi out as a source of comfort without batting an eye.

He made me some tea while I tried to feel weird about being in his private space. I should have been more nosy. He had a lot of books and records. It was clean. It was nice.

But then he mentioned her, carefully. He knew her name.

Of course he knew her name. Why wouldn’t he. Didn’t make sense why it jarred me to the bone and opened up the floodgates.

His eye went all wide and I almost felt sorry for the way his comfort was like an awkward dance. Itchy fingers, quiet apologies.

I didn’t mind. I just sobbed and I told him everything, what it was like to watch her die of something so mundane, everything my dad had said to me, everything I’d said back, and by the time I’d finished my tea, in his silent company in his sitting room, I’d gone from a broken dam to a trickle of water.

‘Pain makes people do stupid things, I guess.’ I said, finally, a shake in my breath and in my hands around the cup.

He sat forward, fingers meshed, and I was suddenly attuned to his every word.

‘Sakura, human beings do stupid things. And while any emotion can be the catalyst, a person makes a choice in whether or not they take their pain and anger out on other people. It’s what separates the strong from the weak.’

I bristled at that a bit. ‘My father is not weak.’

‘It was the weakest moment of his life, striking you.’ he said.

'I destroyed the training ground.’

'I didn't say that violence isn't a brilliant catharsis.’

‘But I'm weak though, aren't I, for what I said to him.’

He shook his head. He took the empty cup from my hand, lingered over my fingers and said with all the assuredness in the world, ‘You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.’

‘You’re just saying that to be nice because you have to be.’

‘You should know better than anyone that I rarely do anything because I have to, least of all be nice.’

My heart bloomed, and my face flushed.

I passed out on his couch, and woke up in what felt like a dehydrated, muddled grief hangover the next morning, a blanket thrown over me, and his kind words as he made me more tea.

Then he offered to walk me home, but I asked him to take me to my father’s instead. Our talk had given me a resolve to be strong in the face of this. I had a lot to say to him.

We stood at the door of my parents’ house, the house I grew up in, the house borne in the memory of my mother, and I very badly wanted to kiss Kakashi’s face, or hold him, or express any of the exaggerated feelings of appreciation and respect and love I felt for his honesty. Because his honesty had been the greatest kindness in all of this.

I felt like I’d understood love in that moment, more than I ever had.

I reached up and settled a palm on the patch of skin I could. ‘Thank you.’

His eye crinkled, genuine. ‘You’re welcome. Sakura…’ He went all serious again. ‘Your mother was a remarkable kunoichi. She would be proud of all the dreams you’re making reality.’ And that made my heart swell up all over again.

He left.

When I faced my father, I was not prepared for the way he fell to his knees, begging for forgiveness. In his blabbering and pleading I heard Kakashi’s name.

* * *

 

 

It was a strange box to put him in. The not-just-my-teammate kind of love.

I didn’t realise it at first. It’s like trying to pinpoint a taste or a smell, what that feeling is every time you see that one person. I’d never felt it with Sasuke, so I wouldn’t have thought to put a label like “affection” or “attraction” or “a big fucking crush on your old sensei” on Kakashi.

I was furious with him at first. For days. And for the strangest reason that I was robbed of the chance to make my dad plead for forgiveness on my own terms, but Kakashi had ignited such a fear and a guilt in him that from that point forward it made him tiptoe around me, and I was almost thankful. It made my comings and goings easier, collecting all of my mother's things that he no longer wanted around, which was most of it. He didn't handle it well. In the worst way, we couldn't be there for each other.

But I had Kakashi.

I eventually confronted him about his little chat with my father. He found me leaving the Hokage building for the night. A suspicious time, and too much purposeness to his walk to truly be a coincidence. It had been a long day, but all days were long now, because every second a task didn’t take my complete attention I was wont to crumple up on the floor and sob over my mother. Seeing him was all at once relieving and frustrating, because he caught me as a flustered, exhausted mess. I’d probably been awake for over forty-eight hours.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, but cautiously. He was trying very hard to not be nosy, and reprimanding, but doing both.

Manners and sleep deprivation did not go hand in hand. ‘I work and train here, and I happen to be finished for the day, what are  _ you _ doing here?’

‘Asking you what you’re doing here.’

‘Really, I thought maybe Tsunade-sama had called you in for a spanking because you’d made another citizen cry. Kakashi, what did you say to my dad?’

Kakashi thought he was so damn hard to read. And he was, for the most part. But he’d taught me some things without even realising. That side-eye glance? That delicate pause? A deliberation of his next move. A blank slate deciding which mask to put on next.

It ended up being a cheerful crinkle to the eye.

‘Not much, really.’

‘The man was literally sobbing. Did you threaten him?’

‘I might have reminded him how much he likes having his hands still attached to his wrists. Maybe.’

‘Kakashi.’

His sigh was full of regret. ‘I overstepped my boundaries, I apologise.’ he said, with genuine guilt. ‘I don’t know your father very well. I wanted to gauge the situation.’

‘You mean you didn’t trust me to deal with it?’

‘It means you have a history of being hurt by those you love, and you’re much too forgiving. It’s a good quality to have, Sakura. But even loved ones take advantage of that sometimes.’

I didn’t know what to say to that. I was suddenly too tired to be angry.

‘Truthfully, I just told him how lucky he was of that fact. That he hurt Sakura Haruno and lived to tell the tale. He was more scared of you than me by the time I left.’

‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

‘I know.’ he said, very serious. ‘I’m sorry.’

He was right about the forgiveness thing. The truth was, was that I understood Kakashi. I think I might have done the same thing if my friend was in a compromising situation, if I thought they were going to keep getting hurt. What if my father kept doing it again?

I don’t think he would, but there was no doubt after their little chat.

‘Can I walk you home?’

I nodded. I could have been crawling by that point, so I was glad of the company to at least remind me I was still a human being.

‘I’m surprised Tsunade didn’t send you home.’

‘She did. She tried, anyway.’

‘Shouldn’t you be…’

‘Curled up in bed, crying, accomplishing nothing and helping no one? Look, Tsunade’s already given me a mouthful, I don’t need it from you.’

‘You need the distraction. I understand. But you look like you haven’t slept in days.’

I winced. ‘It’s…’ before I could stop them, completely disarmed by Kakashi, my eyes started to well up. ‘It’s been hard to sleep. I’ve been trying to keep my apartment clean, you know. Unpack all my mum’s stuff. And she had like a thousand fucking plants to water- sorry, ah... I just- needed a break from that. Go back to normal for a day, at least.’

‘You really don’t waste time.’

‘I can’t just leave it all sitting in boxes.’

‘No one would blame you for taking your time with all of this.’

‘Nobody but me.’ I muttered.

Grief affects everyone differently. Sometimes it brought the worst out of people. Sometimes it made them insomniacs. Sometimes it made you exhausted beyond the point of breaking.

I was in limbo.

‘Can I help you unpack?’ he asked, without thinking about the time, without thinking about his own priorities.

Turns out Kakashi was my only tether.

 

* * *

 

Kakashi didn’t much care about himself.

It’s something I realised after I got a little too attached.

Inordinate amounts of time spent in the hospital after a string of long-hauls and high ranking missions. No lull in the work schedule. No personal time. No family. No outings.

He was an elite jonin and a village best. Not like I could tell him what to do, anyway.

I could have been reading into things, overdramatizing. I’d been a little obsessed with him. Who was I, anyway, to say I could read  _ Kakashi Hatake _ . Like, please. He was an enigma. He was the hardest thing to understand. We'd been his priority for so long, maybe when he didn't have a few brats to take care of, this was always how he was? Maybe being a ninja was his life.

Or maybe I just got a little too cozy during that grieving period, all that time he spent on me. Always checking in whenever he was in the village. Even bought me dinner a few times. It was a little weird with him sitting there foodless, watching me slurp up noodles, but he had his parameters.

And it was a private memory of mine now. Three in the morning, four cups of coffee later, my living room floor littered with my mother’s things and a dozen boxes broken down, a Kakashi surveying the work. The embarrassment but more so the comfort of having him in my space, filling it up, making it warm. The deepest, dreamless sleep I’d had in my short lifetime.

He spoke to me differently. Maybe a little too carefully, but never like a child. I felt like a mouth-breather, gaping at him sometimes. I felt like a friend.

‘It's been hard,’ I told him once, after he had been away for a month. ‘I… I mean, you’d know better than most. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound so dramatic.’

‘You don’t,’ he assured me.

‘I feel like it’s made me worry about everything and everyone now, more than usual. I spend a lot of time wondering if you and... and Sasuke and Naruto are okay. God, I miss that idiot. I didn’t even think that was possible.’

‘Life certainly has a distinct lack of… orange and irritation in it.’

‘I hope he comes home soon.’

‘He will,’ he promised. I believed him.

And it was in the middle of dinner as he explained a jutsu he’d copied in wave country that I startled myself with how focussed I was on his hands, explaining the seals. Fingers long. Perfect nails, blunt, expressive. His face under his mask, an outline of lips that spoke, and enjoyed what he was speaking about. And butterflies in my stomach.

All the other girls had always found him so fucking hot. I'd… understood, kinda. He'd been my superior and my friend, so at the time, it was hard to see past that. But I got the appeal. He was mysterious. What was sexier than a bit of mystery? Sasuke had bucketsful and that had always been the defining factor of my “undying love”. The girls didn't know all his nuances and how much of a fucking infuriating asshole Kakashi could be, so he was simply alluring to them. A bit unnerving, incredibly powerful. That was also strangely hot.

He taught me so much. He knew so much. He made my blood boil sometimes, which made me think of my boys, far away. My connection to team seven.

But Kakashi was somebody who came into your life, not the other way around. So I relished in his attention when I could.

All good things came to an end. Some requirement met as friend and ex-sensei. He fell off the radar and my worry sky-rocketed.

I asked Tsunade, 'Shishou, how long have you known Kakashi-sensei?’

Curiosity was a weakness as much as it was a virtue, especially when it came to asking your boss a question while she was deep into her paperwork. But my concern for Kakashi had been hounding me, and there was no time like the present.

'Hmm? What? A long time.’

'Was he always so aloof?’

Tsunade's eyes slowly strayed from her work to me, as I dated and filed the papers being handed to me. Tsunade only looked mildly annoyed, so I knew I could afford to squeeze in a few more questions.

'I wouldn't take it personally.’

'I don't,’ I promised, tapping some sheets together to straighten them out. 'I just worry about him.’

'Don’t. He knows how to take care of himself, he's a grown man. He had to learn from an early age, anyway.’

'Really?’

Tsunade squinted at me, obviously not interested in storytime. 'Why don't you ask him yourself.’

I shifted awkwardly, and decided to feign exasperation, and stared up at the ceiling. 'Like he would tell me, anyway.’

'Yes, he is an uncommunicative pain in the ass, whose greatest talent is distancing himself from those he loves. Why do  _ you _ think that is?’

I recognised this challenge. Under no circumstances were we shrinks, but being ninja, and medics, it was important to read people. It was important to recognise breaking points.

I’d been thinking about this, actually. If I was honest, it reminded me of how Sasuke was. Deliberate exclusion and detachment.

'It's a coping mechanism,’ I finally answered.

Tsunade jabbed her pen in my direction.  _ You got it _ . 'The copy-nins history is a long and tragic one. If I'm honest, I'm surprised he even turned out this well-adjusted. I think he deserves a few bad habits. As long as he has friends that care about him, and as long as he has his duties, he'll be fine.’ She tapped her desk violently. 'Now get back to work.’

 

* * *

There was a forgotten street and a lonely teahouse that had been half-burnt down nearly two years ago, still abandoned. It meant it was free reign for my underage friends and friends of friends. We were on the cusp of something, I think. Adulthood. Mental breakdowns. Hormones. Normal teenage ninja stuff.

Unsanitary, mind-numbing, and exactly what I needed? I don’t know. Probably not. But it helped.

The party started simmering in me regardless, I got a taste for it. I likened it to being lonely and simply following Ino’s footfalls, but the truth was, I liked it. I liked being dizzy and I liked being tired from too much dancing. I like the music they played and how it hummed through my chest.

I had been on my way to one of those parties, Ino’s giant, forceful hands wrapped around me, I hadn’t even been walking that slow but Pig took literally any chance to belittle me and make me feel like a child. In the midst of yelling at Ino, who seemed to be legitimately trying to dislocate my shoulder, a lantern caught my eye in the same direction as the dango stand I stared at longingly.

And something else. Tall grey hair.

‘Wait, wait, wait!’

A chance, pure coincidence, accident,  _ whatever _ .

A burst of happiness and pleasant surprise in my chest. I hadn’t seen him in  _ months _ . It seemed like every time he came back from a mission, he was already packing to go back out again. I tried to stay updated on all my old teammates, the ones I actually  _ could _ , as I was wont to do studying so closely with the hokage, and Kakashi hadn’t been in Kohona for longer than a seventy-two hour stint for over a year now. Three of those hours he gave to me, sometimes, to sit there and watch me eat.

I faltered when I recognised something about him, my mouth started forming the words “it’s Kakashi-sensei” to alert Ino of my intentions, because I immediately wanted to go and hound him.

I’d never noticed this bar before, in all the times I'd first skipped and then drunkenly stumbled my way past. It was simple in design and practicality, a timber roof slanted over a bar, but the rest of it gambled with the elements. Rows and rows of booths were squared off between a small stage and a perimeter of tall wooden fences. Between columns hung lanterns from rope. He resided beneath the sky and the lanterns, that danced and bobbed softly when caught in a breeze, and this place was full of breathy laughter and twanging, pleasing music. Under the glow, of orange and yellow and ruby, he didn’t look like my sensei.

And I didn’t really understand what it was at first. It wasn’t like I had an expression to go off, I could barely see his eye.

His book was beside him, but he wasn’t reading it. Instead he was preoccupied with a glass of something, and I’d never known him to drink, but I had only ever known him very well when I was a child, and he managed to keep most of his personal life out of our training. I noticed one hand pressed against his hitai-ate in a way you would in the process of experiencing an unpleasant headache.

Pain. Exhaustion. I’d never found reason to associate those words with him much.

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen seconds passed and, ‘What are you- oh  _ come on _ , this is no time for dango! Do you wanna bloat? Can you hurry up!’ Ino was insulting me and tugging me along.

I still considered going and saying hello, but felt… unwelcome. No doubt the last thing he needed was two young women already on a buzz, intruding on his solitude. And this was none of Ino’s business.

_ It's none of  _ your _ business, _ I tried to tell myself, as I continued on.

When I wasn't caught in a conversation that night, which was more like a yelling contest over the music, I kept thinking about him. But obviously I was doing a bad job of pretending to stay in the moment because Ino commented on how distracted I was and how many boys I'd driven away with my vacant, lackluster personality. After that I was way too aware of how much my heart wasn't in it.

The dango stand on top of the hill wasn’t anywhere near as good as the one at the bottom, but I was desperate by the time I reached it. Drunk, chewing more on the stick and less the actual dango, I walked back down the hill. Every time I did I was so thankful for it to be descending on my way home, because rolling down a hill was more agreeable than crawling up one on your hands and knees while you’re shitfaced.

I mean, what were the chances of him still being there, anyway?

But he was.

With his worn-out book and a drink. I was closer this time, eyes locking on the signboard that named this nestled bar “The Yellow Lantern”.

He  _ liked _ this place. Was this… a  _ usual spot _ ? Did he schedule it? Did he  _ plan _ and  _ get there on time? _

Kakashi fucking Hatake. He had slow feet, compared to those around him that raced and aged. Same upside-down mop of hair, same stupid porn, same lazy eye. You would think this would make it easier for people to find him, and you would be wrong. I knew about one of his preferred rooftops by  _ chance _ , when he’d stopped at the hospital to see me about the severe sunburn he’d gotten one summer, after falling asleep on said rooftop. I knew the inside of his apartment sparingly. I’d liked all the records he owned, had been a little too preoccupied with my grief to ask to trifle through them. I’d realized somewhere along the way that he was very good at being graciously, humorously evasive.

He was watching the musician on the stage. Blinking slowly, sparingly, drunk. Lost in the moment. He’d been tired and sleeping poorly, I could tell. There were only three empty glasses on his table but, well, it had been hours now. How many times had it been cleared?

What an image it was. Kakashi and his lanterns. Shoulders big and bent. Hands on his face. I thought that the people sitting around him were so lucky, as he had no qualms about his emotions. Did they know that on any other day this man was the epitome of strength? Did they know that the defeatedness, the slouch in him, was unbecoming?

My heart hurt then, with the guilt of being captivated by his pain.

I wanted to talk to him. I had wholeheartedly meant for this to be my goal, to break this awkward cycle of spying on and invading his life before it truly began.

But I couldn't. The thought suddenly terrified me.

I should leave, be happy with this discovery, and move on with my life.

Instead I found a booth with a view, and timidly poured over the drinks menu.  _ Literally _ . I  _ couldn’t _ get closer to the table even if I tried, hunched and shuffling in my stall to be as small as possible because I was fucking terrified he would see me. This was also a fun game, a fun challenge, ninja versus ninja. Except Kakashi didn’t know he was playing.

_ I’m a fucking creep _ , I realised, with the taste of cherry on my teeth, as I wiped the dribble of milkshake off my chin. It was cakey and nearly dry, and it must have been on my face for a long time. There were  _ very _ few things in this world that enthralled me enough to forget etiquette. And that was perhaps the most disturbing part of this whole disquieting foray into creep-territory.

He didn’t even have the strength to pretend to read his silly book. He just sat there and clenched and unclenched his knuckles, and looked sad. In the worst kind of way it was... fascinating to me. I sipped at my milkshake and, as mentioned, dribbled all over myself like a fool.

I had my guilty conscious to thank, and not any bravery or resolve a ninja should have, that made me walk right passed him to pay the bill. And I was almost convincing, the whole “oh is that you” routine.

Right before my eyes, he changed. Sat up straighter, pretended to smile. It hurt to see. The fake pleasantries were wrong. The “what are you doing in a bar”, however, was very becoming, so I latched onto that.

‘They serve  _ amazing _ cherry milkshakes, didn’t you know?’

A majority of what I said got a mildly interested hum out of him as I blabbered on and tried to hide how tipsy I was, and I knew he was uncomfortable. I was in his space. His place of respite. What if he never came back here again because of me?

This was a bad idea. I should have just skipped the bill. ‘Anyway, I won’t bother you any longer.  _ But _ , I definitely recommend you try one of those milkshakes one day.’

A pause, and my feet were already rotating for the bar. He said, ‘How about right now.’

Maybe he suggested it because he still felt sorry about my mother. Maybe he genuinely needed the company. I’d never know.

They were fucking giant, and I’d have a sore stomach all night, but in all my years as a ninja, sitting down across from him was probably the fastest things I’d ever done.

* * *

 

 

I touched myself thinking about Kakashi that night.

A poor night’s sleep was a good night. A great night was being too drunk to think about it. It was a bad habit of mine to fall asleep on the couch in the middle of dinner, exhausted from work and training, only to be late to bed and restless, and early to rise.

I did my best to counteract it with soothing tea, light reading, long baths, going out and fucking the occasional stranger, but nothing really calmed a busy, obsessive mind.

There was past and present and future all crumpled up and stuffed in my head, trying to unfold. Sadness that was still too fresh as I tossed and turned in my bed and considered giving my apartment a “spring clean”, the third one this week. A very cramped, clean apartment, with all my mothers stuff, so many more surfaces to acquire dust. Less plants, because Into and Kakashi had been kind enough to take a few off my hands. I cried myself to sleep most nights thinking about mamma. What was wrong with me? Everything felt off and I’d spent a long time now pretending that I didn’t feel like everybody had left me behind, in their own ways.

But that made me think of Kakashi, and his kindness. Feeling safe in his home as he explained the world to me, not black and white, but the grey of human beings. Helping me painstakingly unpack and perfectly organise every dumb little trinket and plant and item of clothing that wouldn’t help  _ at all _ with the grieving process. He was so accommodating of my wailing and my babbling, not at all intimidated or put out. Could he do the same? Could he sob and bear his heart like that in his worst moments? Was I somebody he could turn to?

No, I realised.

I thought how beautiful he looked, ordering two milkshakes, hollowing out his cheeks to drink from the straw. His genuine, “its delicious”, his quiet company as he tried not to bother me with whatever it was that had him so lost in his own head.

And that hurt too much, because there was something in me, full of warmth and wonder. That equipped with the nosy, stalkerish way I handled this affection was becoming confusing. Tumbling felt nice. I hadn't tumbled in a long time. It was… moderately healthier than the last time. And since then I'd tried being with others, getting over Sasuke and trying to pretend I wasn’t attracted to Kakashi.

Here I was, wondering if his face was as dreamy as his voice. What was under that mask, for once not considering an accompanying wart or fish lips or all manner of deformities me and the boys had once conjured. I wondered if he was handsome. I wondered if that lazy eye suited the rest of it, if the finished picture was as sultry as it suggested.

And then I felt shallow, so I began to wonder what was going on in that mind- I knew how smart he was. I’d seen his test scores, and I’d seen it firsthand. His intelligence was intimidating. It must have made the rest of the world boring. I wondered what kept him up at night. Did he like what he saw in the mirror. Did he have hopes, dreams, old loves, plans for the future. Did he think about me? Was he thinking about me right now?

And then my hand was between my legs, already naked and spreading, because that was too much. Kakashi, naked or more importantly, safe and relaxed enough to have that mask off in his own bed, touching himself over me.

It could never happen, but it was the most erotic image I’d ever thought of, and I built it up so slowly, playing it out in my head. Steady as he was steady. Plunging when he plunged. Gasping as he did. Moaning and shuddering against my mattress and my wet fingers.

_ Holy shit _ .

It was the best sleep I’d had in months.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rework of some old fics on FF that desperately needed some love.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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